


On the Balcony

by trashprincehamlet



Series: Nyo!li Me Tangere: Playing Around with Gender [1]
Category: El Nolibusterismo, Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal, Noli Me Tangere (fandom), Philippine Literature - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashprincehamlet/pseuds/trashprincehamlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 7 of Noli Me Tangere, but genderbent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Balcony

**Author's Note:**

> We're taking up Noli Me Tangere in Filipino class right now, and I was looking up anime genderbends a while ago, too, so I was inspired.
> 
> Notes re genderbent names:
> 
> Maria Clara -> Jose Francisco 
> 
> Juan Crisostomo -> Juana Cristina 
> 
> I didn't genderbend parents, so I could keep surnames.

"Tio, may we go straight home now? I'm not feeling quite well."

Tio Isabelo gave his young nephew an admonishing look. "Pepe, it is improper to leave so soon after Fray Salvi descends from the altar," the bachelor uncle sighed. "Didn't they teach you anything at Ateneo?"

"I don't like the way he glares at me, Tio," Jose said, blushing at the childhood nickname.

"Don't be silly, now."

\--

Later, young Señor de los Santos helped do the accounts for the hacienda in Laguna, while his uncle and father discussed the boy's health. Jose had been fired from his last job, which the good Capitan Tiago said was a sign from God to abandon his foolish dreams. Thus, he had been forced into business.

"Son, why don't you accept that you weren't made to teach? You were being too lenient-"

"Papa, please, I'm not giving up. You know my reasons. Anyway, I've sent an application to Ateneo, perhaps I'll have better luck since I used to study there."

"Perhaps," said his father, moving toward the window. In a different tone, he added, "Señorita Ibarra!" At the words, Tio Isabelo went around, bustling to make sure the house was presentable.

Jose, for his part, forgot what he'd been computing for all of a sudden. The numbers and labels on the account paper suddenly meant nothing and the boy dropped his pen, running to his room.

He sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The girl he'd only seen in the fevered imaginings of adolescent boys was here, in his house. Did Cristina still have hair cut across her forehead, on a cheery face with chubby cheeks? Or was it now long and flowing, framing painted cheeks and eyes?

Jose went over to the Virgin in the corner, reaching up and kissing the image full on her wooden lips, dusty from her years in the alcove. The boy had never known a mother's love, so please don't judge him so.

After a minute of this, he saw himself in the mirror, then went out to the balcony and straightened his jacket, realizing he looked quite idiotic.

"De los Santos, you finally grew! And all those red spots on your face are gone, but still no moustache, surprising..."

Jose turned around to face Cristina. She was in a black _baro't saya_ , after the fashion of the archipelago, not the peninsula, looking as lovely as he'd remembered. The bags under her eyes, however, told him about her loss.

"You can't use that nickname anymore, Ibarra, you'll be de los Santos, too, if everything works out!"

"You idiot," she laughed.

"Don't you want to stay inside? Fine, let, the neighbors see you, get heatstroke!" came Tio Isabelo's voice from the dining room. Young people and their ways! he thought.

Jose and Cristina sat down on the creaking wicker chairs. "Didn't you forget me in Europe?" the boy asked, noting how lovely Cristina had become and feeling a little jealous. "All those young men mixing freely with women in French promenades..."

Cristina remembered a few brief encounters in France and Russia, saying, "No! How could I forget you? Not when I had your picture on my bedside table, along with other little gifts you gave me." She was a daughter of Eve and sister of Cain, so we must forgive her for glossing over things.

"Besides," she continued, a few moments later, "you were the only one there for me when Mama died." Cristina spoke softly, almost crying. "Everything there reminded me of you. The operas made my thoughts turn to the piano you played on my birthday once, chess with my classmates at the women's university made me think of the sungka we used to play, and the Botanical Gardens in Madrid...here."

She pulled out a small pouch from her satchel that contained several dry, cracked leaves. "All your sage leaves. I haven't lost a single one."

Jose took her hand and smiled, a little sadly. "Unlike you, I haven't travelled much. I envy your freedom a little, how you got to leave Santa Catalina after four years. Imagine-seeing the wide world at seventeen. I, on the other hand, stayed at the same athenaeum my whole life."

Worrying the Cristina had been offended, he added, quickly, "It made me somewhat sad, seeing all the young men leaving for Europe. I sometimes wished to exchange places with you, wished I was out seeing the lovely buildings of another continent while you were locked up here. But I don't begrudge you your fortune. I am grateful that you were happy all those years, Cristina." It was strange, calling her Cristina instead of Ibarra. "When we get married, perhaps I'll care for the children and cook, you send them to school and teach them the names of plants, all that fancy Latin."

"Don't get ahead of yourself!" Cristina poked his cheek. "I don't blame you. After all, it must have been awfully lonely, just you with all those priests," she added sarcastically.

Jose ignored the slight to Catholicism. "I still have your letter."

"The one I gave before leaving the convent for Europe?"

"You never sent me anything else, Ibarra!"

"What about the letter, Jose?"

"I've kept it with me all these years. Here, let me read it. Oh, never mind all these lines, those are promises you broke," Jose said jokingly, skipping over a few words."

" 'My father wishes me to depart. "I know you are a woman," he said, "but that must not stop you from pursuing an education and taking part in your country's progress. If you remain here, you will be naive, and lack knowledge of the important things in life. And on the day you so need that knowledge you will be like the poet Baltazar's plant. Nearly a grown-up, and still in tears over a trifle!" ' "

" 'It was then I admitted I was in love with you. Papa sat by me, saying, "Do you think you are the only one who knows how to love? Do you believe that I will not be hurt by your departure? To you, the future opens its doors, to me it closes them. Your love is being born, mine lies dying. And yet you cry and cannot figure out how to sacrifice today for a useful tomorrow!" ' "

" 'I embraced him, asked forgiveness, and agreed to leave for Europe.' "

Jose noticed Cristina was uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and running her fingers along her saya.

"What's wrong?”

"You made me forget my responsibilities. I must leave for the village. All Saint's."

Jose was touched, and Cristina looked into his large, morose eyes. He plucked a few flowers from a vine growing by the balcony, and placed one in her hair. The rest, he bunched up and handed to her, saying, "Place these on your parents' grave. Don't worry, I'll see you again in a few days."

That done, he kissed her hand, and went to shut himself up in the oratory.

Cristina descended the stairs, gave "Mano po"s to Tio Isabelo and Capitan Tiago, then disappeared in a flurry of skirts so she wouldn't keep the carromata waiting.

Jose, for his part, sat by the Virgin whose lips he had kissed so tenderly. He allowed himself a few tears, then lit the lamp of Our Lady of Antipolo, to pray for Cristina's trip. Later, he went down to help Tio Isabelo with dinner, Cristina's letter still rustling in his pocket. He forgot his loneliness by humming a cheery song he had learned in Ateneo.

If only he had known how the letter and its sender would be taken away from him very soon, Jose wouldn't be so happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> -Maria Clara's Jose Francisco because Mary and Joseph, and Saint Clare and Saint Francis of Assisi. Yeah.  
> -Crisostomo's Juana Cristina because Juan's easy to genderbend, and I could not think of a girl version of Crisostomo. I was originally going to make fem!Crisostomo Maria Cristina, but then I realized that's the name of a power plant in Mindanao.  
> -I don't know why, but I like genderbending Tia Isabel.  
> -I nicknamed male Maria Clara Pepe as a nod to Jose Rizal.  
> -I know the writing style is cheesier and more fancy than my usual work, but I was going for Rizal's style and I wanted you guys to get the feel of Noli, so...I tried. Hope I made it work.
> 
> -Send me your constructive criticism in the comments!
> 
> -If you have any prompts you want me to write, comment and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> GLOSSARY:  
> 1\. Tio = uncle  
> 2\. Fray = Friar/Father, generally used to refer to a priest.  
> 3\. hacienda = large plot of land  
> 4\. baro't saya = the national costume of the Philippines  
> 5\. "peninsula" = Spain  
> 6\. "archipelago" = Philippines  
> 7\. sungka = a traditional Filipino game that kids over here play  
> 8\. Santa Catalina = an old convent school  
> 9\. Baltazar = an author who wrote Florante at Laura, which is required reading for Filipino sophomores (I really disliked that story)  
> 10\. "Mano po" = a respectful gesture we do for old people here in the Philippines  
> 11\. Our Lady of Antipolo is also Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage, so people pray to her before they or their loved ones go on trips.
> 
> Thank you for reading~! ♡♡♡


End file.
